Instinct
by BrothersInArms
Summary: After the Doctor falls alone and unconscious on the TARDIS floor, the TARDIS takes him to the one and only man she knows who can help him. Yet something far worse then the Doctor’s current circumstance is stirring in Cardiff...No Slash!


_Howdy! Always wanted to say that: howdy. _

_Anyway, thanks for clicking on my story. This is an idea I've been cooking up for a while now, but didn't plan to actually publish it until I finished my other story, _Kiss of Life. _But, due to an intense bout of Writers Block, I began to use this idea as a "cure" and have successfully found myself Writers Block free!!_

_Because I started thinking of this storyline a while ago, a few things have changed in the whoniverse. So, in order for this story to work, w must rewind to a happy time then the Doctor was still on his tenth regeneration, sometime during the 2009 specials, and Owen and Tosh of Torchwood were still alive…well, still talking and walking around *coughOWENcough* _

_So here's the prologue. I hope you enjoy. And leave me a review if you think I should continue =) _

The doors of the TARDIS swooshed open with a bang as the Doctor charged towards it, trusty screwdriver in hand and beige coat flailing behind him dramatically. Objects that he couldn't identify, and didn't exactly wish to have a close encounter with at this time, whizzed passed is bent head and slammed into the wall behind the blue police box. Shouts could be heard from somewhere behind him, yet over the centuries the Doctor had become so proficient at running that he had left his pursuers in the dust. The only problem he encountered was that their weapons far outreached the distance between them.

Finally, with a long jump that would have made Mike Powell proud, the Doctor crossed the threshold into his faithful sanctuary, turning one last time to catch a glimpse of the beings he was fleeing from. It shredded him inside to leave them like this; the two races were tearing each other apart over the planet, having no means of escaping into the great galaxy beyond in search of a new home. Yet as the nearest one approached, with his three mouths curved in a smirk and his odd little gun raised in his direction, the Doctor did what he had rarely ever been able to force himself to do—He turned away.

He overestimated the speed at which the TARDIS could close its doors, and as he looked up at the great console before him, self-disappointment battling his desire to continue running, as ever, he felt something nick the back of his neck, just below his skull. It felt as trivial as a spider's bite, or being stuck from a long distance with a low-impact rubber band gun, but it didn't go unnoticed. Instinctively, his hand flew to the back of his head as his vision immediately began to blur. Something liquid met his touch and as he brought his hand back in front of his distorting eyes he saw it was a mixture of red and off-white.

"Oh, brilliant." He muttered sarcastically as he dragged his suddenly heavy limbs up the metal ramp towards the console, hoping he had enough time to punch in some random coordinates and hope they land him somewhere and sometime in the universe. But now the muscles in his legs began to work against him, and the TARDIS controls began to multiply and fade away in front of his eyes. And his head hurt—OH, it hurt—like lava was seeping through the contact point on the back of his neck where this had all started, weaving its way into his brain and freezing his functions. His limbs wouldn't obey. His vision wouldn't settle. And he'd yet to escape the planet currently involved in a civil war, where he had suddenly become "public enemy number one".

The foes were at the door, demanding access within by force. But the TARDIS kept the doors barred and protected while waiting eagerly for her driver to give his directions. But they did not come. With a final cry of pain, the Doctor fell to the floor, legs no longer able to hold him up as the poison spread further into his nervous system. The impact of hitting the ground seemed to finalize the act, for he suddenly laid very still, not a muscle moving. The red and off-white mixture continued to drip from the break on his neck and seeped through the grills of the TARDIS floor.

That's when she knew something was wrong. She was not an unintelligent machine, and she could recognize cause, effect, and consequence easily enough. The enemy pounded on her doors more insistently and she did the only think she could think to do—that she had learned so well from her many years with her fearless driver.

She ran.

TBC

_Well, I guess the whole "_TBC_" deal is really up to you guys. If you want more or are even slightly interested, drop me a note and I will go prepare for Jack's entrance next chapter. However, since I wasn't really planning to publish this until finishing my other story (Only a couple chapters left =D ) I probably won't continue this until I finish that first. BUT—that leave you plenty of time to leave me a review ;-) _

_Till next time… _


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